Sidewalk Flower

by Carlene Love Flores

  Or until one of her relatives caved and called.

  But Jaxon was right; she’d never gotten physical before, and not at the detriment of her daughter. Verbal abuse flung around this place like ape shit at the gorilla enclosure but never something like what had happened tonight. She cradled Jaxon in her arms. She truly felt for him now.

  “Look, I’ll make some calls when the hour gets a little more decent, okay? We’ll find her. It’ll be okay.”

  A half-hour passed and while Jaxon was still out of his mind with worry, he had at least recuperated from the self-induced poisoning. She handed him the last two ounces of water from his cup.

  “Thank you for coming, Trissy. I forgot you had company. You look like hell.”

  She let out a sigh. Now that things had calmed and Jaxon was no longer on the verge of death, her thoughts skipped to Lucky. What would she tell him? He’d been out on the couch for over an hour now. And, he'd witnessed for himself her intense devotion to Jaxon. The wild eyes she’d probably laid on Lucky when he kept insisting they get medical attention. Surely he saw her for the crazy person she was now.

  The person she had to be.

  But for as loyal as she was to Jaxon, it broke her heart that her night with Lucky had been ruined. No way would they get another chance like that. Tomorrow and every day after would be wickedly busy. For the both of them, if he still wanted the touring carpenter job. She’d understand if he let the offer go and returned home instead. Either way, she’d learned one thing tonight—she cared about Lucky and their time together. If she hadn’t been so overwhelmed with all the intense, new feelings he gave her, she’d have required a promise of her own. He should know how special he was to her, too.

  “What a mess,” she whispered to the room.

  “What’s that, darl’?”

  “Jaxon, I came over here, I mean, I was with Lucky, he and I, I left that to come here. He’s probably pissed and confused out there right now. And I’m in here with you.”

  “Then why don’t you go out there to him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Am I keeping you here, Trissy?”

  She wouldn’t answer him.

  * * * *

  Fuck. Me. He’d found a new way to screw over his best girl, again. But shit, if she hadn’t come over, he’d have had no one to tell him Maryellie was going to be okay. For all the crap he’d pulled on Trissy lately, there’d been a time when she’d been closer to him than any other human being, ever. Her judgment never strangled his wild ambitions. Her trust hadn’t wavered in sixteen years. Not even the fucking million and a half times when it should have. She was his in a way he’d never planned for her to be. Fuck, it was wrong. He flattened his palms against his head at his pounding temples; maybe he could squeeze the selfish prick out, for her sake. And let her go.

  “Hey, let me get you some aspirin.”

  He stopped her with his weak, sweaty hand. “Trissy, how long’ve we been doing this?”

  Her face scrunched up as she thought about it but the question really wasn’t for her.

  “Sixteen years. I’ve had you that long,” he answered for her.

  “Yeah, and I think you need to get some rest for the next sixteen hours. At least. You look and smell like hell,” she said, going to her knees to clean up rags. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay here tonight.”

  “Trissy, sit still for a sec and hear me.”

  She did, turning her once spark-fired blue eyes on him. The only way he could look her in those eyes was by reminding himself he’d never taken advantage of her in certain ways he’d done with countless others who hadn’t meant crap to him.

  Because his karma was bananas and his timing even worse, it was his fault she didn’t know where she should be tonight. He’d picked up on whatever she and Lucky had started as soon as he’d seen their interactions at the party. He couldn’t keep her caught in his web. His cousin was a good guy willing to do things for Trissy he hadn’t done. For Christ’s sake, she’d taken the day off to be with Lucky. What he owed her now was the clear understanding that she didn’t belong to him.

  Without hesitation, he got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to where Trissy sat. He fixed himself, determined and ready to set her free the only way he knew how.

  “Trista,” he called her name properly, maybe as a warning. Hell, who knew at this point? Then stretched his neck until his chin bumped hers. His knuckles planted fiercely in the carpet to keep him from falling over, he had no qualms about kissing her.

  * * * *

  Lucky had grown tired of hanging out and waiting on Jaxon’s couch. He’d already fished up the broken shards of lamp and straightened the framed nighttime skyline of Sydney hanging on the wall. He’d even taken the liberty of dusting away the mounds of pink confetti covering almost every table top in the home. But he left some of it. Jaxon may want the reminder. At this point, he was either seconds away from crashing on the sofa or going outside for some fresh air.

  But he couldn’t sleep, not yet. Not until he saw Trista again. Held her. Apologized for thinking he knew what was best when it came to Jaxon when he clearly didn’t. Pick up where they’d left off.

  He made his way out to Jaxon’s beautifully landscaped backyard for some fresh air. The home’s stucco walls resembled an old Spanish mission with the western facing portions setting their sights on the drowning sun and the water in the distance. Lord what he’d give for a set of those incredible, large wooden-framed windows.

  For a moment, he sat down on the patio furniture but it was entirely too comfortable and would have lulled him to sleep like a baby. And the only sleep he cared to have tonight included Trista wrapped up in his arms. What was taking her so long? It’s gotta be past two in the morning by now. Maybe she and Jaxon had conked out in Maryella’s room, wasted from the energy they’d spent on the near death experience.

  When Trista had closed Maryella’s door earlier, he’d taken it as a sign that she needed to have a few choice words with his cousin. He now understood how very real the situation was with Maryella and why Trista insisted on privacy where Jaxon was concerned.

  So, instead of succumbing to the plush cushions of the outdoor chaise lounge, he did what any country boy would do and went for a walk. After a few long strides, he came to the first of those big nice windows he’d noticed before. The wooden slatted blinds on this one hadn’t been pulled shut and a dim light poked through. This must be Maryella’s room.

  He stepped closer to get a good feel for the type of wood used in the frame. He’d almost convinced himself that Trista and Jaxon had fallen asleep inside, but when he leaned in to the glass, he saw how incredibly wrong he was. Lord, what in the hell? He was dying to shove off from the windowsill but couldn’t. His feet were glued in place. Jaxon and Trista sat on the floor, Jaxon on all fours, leaning into her, his lips to hers. Trista? Darlin’? She pulled back.

  Thank God she’d pulled back. But then Jaxon leaned in again, and kissed her, again! Longer this time. She pulled back again or maybe she’d just fallen backward. But by the third time, he was too sick to his stomach to stand anymore. Lord, why? Why is she letting him do that to her?

  He waited to see if she would leave the room to come find him. But she just sat there, with Jaxon hovering near her face. Thank God he hadn’t kissed her again but watching her stare at Jaxon like that wasn’t any better. Didn’t churn his gut any less.

  He couldn’t come up with a rational thought other than being haunted by the words Vangie had slung at him earlier. He tried not to listen.

  Seeing the way Trista had taken such vigilant care of Jaxon tonight—insisting she be the one to bring him through the dark hole he’d fallen into—she had strings that weren’t ready to be clipped yet. It hurt him to admit it, but she shared something far deeper with his cousin than he realized. His chest burned with anger and hurt.

  What am I doing here? What else do I have to see to realize I don’t belong? She’d gone from his arms in thei
r shower to Jaxon’s lips on the floor. Too hurt to reconcile her actions, he started to turn and leave the window when he caught sight of her hand smoothing Jaxon’s hair back then cupping his cheek.

  That was it.

  He’d seen enough.

  He checked his pants for his phone and wallet—all he really needed to get out of here. After tonight, he doubted Trista would even want his red and black shirt, dried with the salt that scratched the skin of his back now.

  He forced himself to walk away. Away from the world that was too fast and too dark. He would have taken Trista with him, if she’d been able to leave. But she couldn’t. He saw that now.

  Outside a small organic foods market, he found a payphone and thumbed through the yellow pages. He found the number for the bus company. A couple miles down the road and he’d be at their stop. And then he’d sit back and regret the long, quiet trip that would take him back to Tennessee. Every unfair mile of it. But, what else was a man supposed to do? As long as he lived, he’d never be able to feel her kiss without seeing Jaxon in his peripheral, feeling betrayed. And he wasn’t willing to share. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he numbly walked until the sidewalk ran out.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Jaxon…what the hell?”

  He leaned in and kissed her a second time. She inched back, her mind a swamp, but he found her and did it again. Finally she lurched back onto her haunches, about to squirm around until she found her legs to stand up but they were in jelly shock.

  Unbelieving, she stared a hole through Jaxon’s chest. Crazy man, he didn’t budge. Just stalked her like a large cat warning its mate something was about to go down. Something nature had deemed necessary for survival of their kind, Jaxon and her kind, a special breed of crazies. After a few more moments and after she had failed to comprehend his antics, he came in at her a fourth time, still only using his lips.

  He’s finally gone completely nuts.

  The thought of losing Maryella had scrambled his brain. This was her friend in pain and he needed her comfort. But this wasn’t right. She’d hold him, sing to him, talk him down and cheer him up. But not like this and not with Lucky, the man she’d developed an instant trust and camaraderie with, and a very promising thought of love, sitting out there waiting for her to come back to him.

  When Jaxon deepened his kiss, it pressed her to reach her hands up to his cheeks. Holding his face firmly, she pulled away.

  “Jaxon, this isn’t right. I…will always be your friend and I will always care about what happens to you, the good and the bad. I know you’re hurting, but I can’t help you this way.”

  “Trissy, this isn’t about me. You’ve got it all wrong, baby girl. That was for you.”

  “What? What? For me? Jaxon, what…?”

  “Listen, let me explain, okay?”

  “I think you need to at this point.” Her hands were now attached to stiff, crossed arms.

  “Something inside you is unsure about us.”

  Was he psychotic? “Not about that!”

  “Let me finish, Trissy. Please?”

  She nodded, sure she was being punked, but she bit her tongue.

  “You feel…obligated to me in a very deep, almost morbid way.” What a way to make a girl feel pathetic. She flinched and looked down. He brought her chin up with a curled, tobacco-scented finger. “I’m not saying anything bad against you. I feel it, too. But I’ve done something to you over the years. You shouldn’t be at my beck and call anymore.”

  Then stop calling me on the verge of death!

  “Then what was all this about?” She swiped a knuckle deeply across her lips.

  “In case you had any doubts about your feelings for me, I wanted to give you the chance to prove to yourself that we just don’t share that kind of chemistry.”

  “Jaxon, that is so twisted. I can’t even begin to tell you.”

  “Maybe, but it worked. Think about it, do you think there’s any way possible you and I could ever be together?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Okay, so now there’s nothing stopping you from going out there and being with Lucky.”

  “No, there isn’t. You really thought that in my subconscious mind, I was holding out for you?”

  “You don’t sound like it now, but yeah, I had to at least make sure of it. I mean, baby girl, what else could I possibly have over you that would keep you here this whole time?”

  Maybe it was sitting cross-legged like an innocent little kid on Maryella’s bedroom floor, but she easily spit out the truth. “I owe you my life, Jaxon.”

  “No, you don’t, darl’. If anything, I’ve fucked you up in different ways than what you were running from. I’ve put you in situations you never should’ve been in. But you’ve gone anyway, to help me. And when I should have been there for you, I haven’t been. There’s only one thing I want from you now and that’s to see you happy and healthy. And that young man out there on the couch could be the one. I don’t know what you did to him on that trip but have you seen the way he looks at you?”

  Her face flushed but unless Jaxon was a secret wish-granting genie, there was still one major problem. “Jaxon, I don’t think I know how to let you go.”

  “I know. But you’ve got to.”

  “But, I’m so worried about you. I mean, tonight…look what happened. What if I hadn’t come over? You could have died.”

  “I promise you right here and now that I won’t ever do this again. Okay? Look at me, I promise you. I’ve made a mess of my life but I’m gonna make it better. I swear.”

  She’d spent the better part of her life keeping him alive. That’s what she couldn’t walk away from.

  “You promise?”

  “Yes. I have to, not just for you but for Maryellie.”

  “Okay.” She believed he’d do it for his daughter.

  Something had been settled with Jaxon. Not entirely but they were on the right track. Who knew? Maybe Jaxon wasn’t completely off his rocker. She didn’t really know. But she was sure Lucky was the only man she wanted kissing her.

  After Jaxon excused himself to the bathroom for a shower, she skipped out to the living room to find Lucky and climb into his lap, wherever he may be.

  She checked each room downstairs and then all six upstairs. She came back down and went out back. The trail that led to the shore came up empty. She walked the entire outer perimeter of the house and its grounds, and then went down the driveway to where she’d left her Jeep. His duffel bag was still there tucked where he’d stowed it earlier. She walked briskly back to the house and searched for her cell phone.

  She dialed his number, pressing hard on the small number pads, and waited for him to answer. Where is he? A grown man doesn’t just disappear. There was no answer, just a prompt after the humorous outgoing blurt from him about trying to get lucky.

  “Lucky, it’s me, Trista. Hey, give me a call, okay? I, uh, I can’t seem to find you and your stuff is still in the Jeep. Please call me, I’m a little worried over here, Tennessee. Thanks.”

  Surely he was okay but that panicky feeling in the pit of her stomach was doing its best to convince her otherwise. She traced her steps back down the hall to Maryella’s room. It was the last place she’d seen him. He’d left in a huff and said he’d be in the living room. Then she’d closed the door for privacy. And hadn’t seen him since.

  The sun would rise soon but it was still pitch dark outside as she looked out Maryella’s window. Standing there peeved at herself was getting her nowhere so she headed to the living room, the place he’d said he’d wait for her. With renewed focus and growing fear, she scoured the place. The lamps had been picked up and the room looked less like a brunette, stiletto-wearing tornado had blown through it. Lucky had done some tidying. Geez, she’d left him out here so long.

  Jaxon’s custom-torqued showerhead sounded from upstairs. Maybe she hadn’t gone far enough down the trail to the water. Maybe Lucky was there, waiting for her to join him and pick up
where they’d left off at their beach.

  It made the most sense. What other explanation could there be? She ran to find her flojos. “Jaxon,” she hollered a little too loudly. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up.”

  Oooh, it was chilly. She shivered and rubbed her arms, passing the patio and continuing down the trail along the side of the house. Even though there should be no strangers lurking out here to see it, the light poking through the open slats of Maryella’s bedroom window called her over. She’d have to remember to tell Jaxon not to leave these open at night. She stepped in closer and got a clear view of the empty room and the koala lamp nearby. And oh geez, there went Jaxon, in all his wet, naked glory, passing through the hallway. Wherever Lucky was, she hoped this type of thing wouldn’t offend him. And then something about that thought clicked. Lucky probably wouldn’t care; guys were that way with each other. But he’d sure as hell not appreciate her seeing it.

  Silly boys. Something being crushed beneath the thin sole of her flojo caused her to look down. She pulled her foot back to find she was standing in a fresh patch of soil and mulch. It was that time of year for the springtime gardeners. A poor little flower bulb lay on its side. She tried to perk it back up, bending down and pulling up on its stem with her fingers. But it refused, slumping back down when she released it. And then to the right, just inches away from where she stood was a larger indentation in the soil. She looked to the left, finding its match. Two shoeprints, pointy at the top and squared at the rear. The boots of a man who had stood here in this spot. Her head spun and her breath came out in labored puffs.

  “No. No. No. Don’t screw me like this! Don’t! He said you loved me!” She fisted her hand up to the sky. It was the best she could do.

  She was about to hyperventilate on her frustration with men, in particular the Mason-James clan and the profound feeling of uncertainty she had as she stood in the midst of Lucky’s tracks. What had he seen? Why had he left his things? Would he return her call? The answers flashed for her like three-by-five note cards being rehearsed for a speech. One—the repeated kissing between her and Jaxon, Two—extreme anger and disappointment, and Three—not very likely.